


A Coin For Your Thoughts

by TypingBosmer



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Awkward Alistair (Dragon Age), Developing Relationship, Dialogue Heavy, Dragon Age: Origins Quest - Unrest in the Alienage, F/M, POV Alistair (Dragon Age), Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:01:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24286306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TypingBosmer/pseuds/TypingBosmer
Summary: Three times, Alistair tries to get Warden Tabris to confide in him with the same joke. And each time, she has a different reaction.
Relationships: Alistair/Female Warden (Dragon Age), Alistair/Tabris (Dragon Age)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9
Collections: Dragon Age Fic





	A Coin For Your Thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written as a Tumblr prompt for user Ma-suranas.

***

A copper for your thoughts,' Alistair says, probing the soil - the metaphorical soil, obviously. The real soil, beyond the narrow, greenish ribbon of their path, is far too wobbly and mushy to go prodding around. No, all he wants is to get Duncan's new recruit to talk. Just to make their marshland trek a little cheerier.

The newcomer from Denerim does not respond. Does not tell him anything.

Her jaw is hardened, and her lips are pursed, and her eyes are prickly like shards of green bottle glass. Alistair swallows and falls back awkwardly, trying to figure out what witch jokes he can tell to Jory and Daveth in order to feel at least a tiny bit less stupid.

***

'A silver for your thoughts,' Alistair beams, plopping beside his fellow Warden at the campfire.

Tabris has been gazing into the flames, pondering over Maker knows what... Actually, it was probably something about rations. She always worries about rations, and clothing, and shelter, and all the practicalities of being a world-saving hero that you don't really learn about from books with peeling gilded etchings of knights on the cover. She is attentive like that.

Still, he has to ask - because that's what friends do when a friend goes quiet. He thinks. He is not really an expert on this whole friendship business. Much as he tries.

She hmphs quietly to herself, and tilts her head to look at him. There is a smile on her lips. A rather... nice smile, he thinks, while the fire's heat sort of... tosses itself at him, like a mage's spell. But her eyes are still prickly.

'That would be a nice way to get some silvers, wouldn't it? Warden Tabris speaks her thoughts! Come hear her words of wisdom for a small fee! Might earn us enough to finally properly feed everyone,' she says. And does not tell him more.

***

'A... A sovereign for your thoughts?' Alistair clears his throat weakly and attempts to catch Lo's gaze.

With her boots darkened by slaver blood and her angular arms wrapped tightly around her torso, Lo leans against the wooden support of a lopsided, loosely hammered building. The very building, maybe, where she and her cousins played games as children. He... hopes they did, at least. He hopes they found the time for games; he scarcely did, himself, too busy squeezing in among sleeping hounds to find warmth, and then sort of hovering in the background when the other Templars-to-be were being rowdy youngsters together.

He is rambling. He does not know why he asked that question. Why he keeps increasing the sum. Like it matters. He just... couldn't stand seeing her like this - the wonderful, gorgeous, brave, strong, incredible woman who somehow loves him back. He couldn't stand seeing her quiet, and shaking, and...

She breathes out through her nose. Her jaw is hardened, and her lips are pursed... But her eyes - her beautiful, beautiful eyes - are melting. Huge and bright and glinting with unshed tears.

She turns abruptly, and throws her arms around him, all angles and twitches, and buries her face in his shoulder.

'Um, I don't think I actually have a sovereign, but...' he hears himself rambling on. A stupid voice somewhere far outside his head, which he curses tenfold.

'I don't care about sovereigns, you big nug,' she says shakily...

And then tells him more.

Tells him everything.


End file.
